


No More Alone Or Myself Could I Be

by camwolfe



Series: The Water Can't Drown Me [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camwolfe/pseuds/camwolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky leaves for a week. Steve doesn't handle it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Alone Or Myself Could I Be

**Author's Note:**

> woah I haven't posted anything in this series in a while. my bad, I wrote this and then promptly lost it in my messy fic folder on my computer. some lovely kind anons on tumblr reminded me and so HERE YOU GO ANONS. SHOUT OUT TO ALL OF YOU
> 
> Take a look at those tags before reading, friends!
> 
> Title from Hozier's song "Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene."

The night before Bucky left, Steve had a nightmare.

It was the same one he always had. In it, he woke up and rolled over to find Bucky lying beside him like always. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully, but then Steve realized that his chest wasn’t moving. When he reached over, Bucky’s skin was cold. He didn’t move when Steve shook his arm, and he knew, he just _knew –_

Steve woke up gasping for breath. The room was dark and quiet, the sound of the ocean against the rocks distant and faint.

He rolled over, shaking Bucky’s shoulder frantically.

“What?” Bucky mumbled, shrugging away from him. He opened his eyes blearily, half-sitting up in the bed.  “Steve?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but ended up gasping for air instead.

Bucky blinked a few times, frowning. He reached out, but Steve was the one to shrug away now.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, his words still a little slurred with sleep.

“Nothing,” Steve said hurriedly. “Sorry, sorry. Just had a nightmare.”

Bucky frowned again. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Steve said quickly. He flopped back down onto his pillow, trying to hide how tight his chest felt and how hard it was to take a breath in. He could still feel the terror from his nightmare running through his veins, even though he was fully awake by now.

He rolled over, turning his back to Bucky. Bucky needed to sleep, he didn’t need Steve keeping him awake with something like this.

“Steve…” Bucky said slowly. Steve stared into the darkness and didn’t reply.

Bucky laid back down a few moments later, and Steve tried to even his breathing out.

Bucky rolled closer to Steve, pressing himself gently against Steve’s back. Steve felt the fear start to seep away at the sound of Bucky’s steady breathing, and his warmth pressing against Steve’s skin.

It only took him a few hours to get back to sleep this time.

 

“Okay,” Bucky said as he ran down the stairs the next morning with his bag thrown over his shoulder. He was going on a trip with his coworkers to some conference up in the city. It was only for a few days, but it was still the longest that the two of them had been apart since Bucky had moved in. “What am I forgetting?”

“How should I know?” Steve asked. He was standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes from last night’s dinner.

Bucky shrugged. “Come on, I always forget something.”

Steve sighed. “Okay, fine. Socks?”

“Got ‘em.”

“Wallet?”

Bucky patted the pocket of his jeans. “Got it.”

“Toothbrush?”

Bucky paused and frowned. “Shit.”

Steve laughed as Bucky dropped his duffel bag on the floor and ran back upstairs.

A car horn beeped outside. Steve glanced out the window to see a car parked in their driveway.

“They’re here!” Steve called.

“Where the fuck did I put my toothbrush?” Bucky yelled back.

Steve sighed again. “Did you check the cabinet above the sink?”

“Why would it be – oh.”

Bucky scrambled back down the stairs again, trying to put his jacket and shoes on at the same time. The car honked again.

“Got everything now?” Steve asked. He walked over to lean in the doorway, watching with amusement.

“Probably not,” Bucky said. Sergeant skidded around the corner, jumping at Bucky when he saw him heading to the door. “Ah, no, sorry bud!”

Steve darted forward and grabbed Sergeant’s collar, pulling him gently back as Bucky tried to get out the door.

“Have fun,” Steve said with a smile as Bucky managed to squeeze by them and make it out the door.

“Bye!” Bucky said cheerfully as he ran up the driveway. His coworkers were leaning out the windows of the car by then, waving to him impatiently. “I’ll see you on Friday!”

Steve wrangled Sergeant back into the house and shut the door, watching through the window as Bucky threw his bag in the back and jumped into the car. It pulled out of their driveway and back up the road.

Steve’s smile fell off his face. Sergeant whined pitifully.

“Sorry,” Steve said to him. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He went back into the kitchen and finished washing the dishes. It didn’t take long, and he ended up back on the couch, watching tv. There was nothing on except nature documentaries and bad reality shows, but he liked having the sound on. He hated it when the house was too quiet, and it always was with Bucky gone.

Sergeant hopped up onto the couch next to him and sighed dramatically. Steve felt the same.

It was Monday, and Bucky would be back on Friday. That wasn’t long at all. Steve would be fine.

He’d definitely be fine.

 

Going to sleep that night was strange. His bed felt too big, and much too cold. He let Sergeant jump up beside him, ignoring the way the dog curled up in Bucky’s spot and started to whine again.

The ocean sounded louder tonight, keeping Steve awake in a way that it never had before.

Steve’s phone beeped, and he nearly fell out of bed in his haste to grab it off the nightstand.

Bucky had texted him a picture of him and his coworkers out at some bar, all of them smiling and happy. All of his coworkers were young and pretty and wickedly smart. Steve had met them a few times. They were all funny and friendly and all had incredible careers in front of them, just like Bucky.

Steve couldn’t think of anything to say in response that wasn’t horrifically pitiful. All he really wanted to type was ‘please come home’, but of course he didn’t send that. He turned the light on instead and took a slightly blurry picture of Sergeant, and sent it with no caption.

Bucky sent back a string of emoticons that Steve was too tired to decipher, and the temptation to send a truly pathetic message was getting too strong. He set his phone back on the nightstand and turned the light off again. He needed to sleep. He had work in the morning.

He didn’t sleep.

 

Work the next morning was terrible. He was exhausted, and every minor irritation seemed like the end of the world. He passed out for a while when he got home, curled up on the couch, but he needed to make dinner and he needed to pay the electricity bill and he needed to get the drainpipes cleaned out.

Steve sighed and got up.

He made himself a rather uninspiring dinner of ramen noodles and ate it in front of the tv. It was lonely and boring and frankly, he hated it.

He took Sergeant for a walk later that evening, ignoring the way that Sergeant sadly sniffed at the pile of Bucky’s shoes by the door. The house was still quiet when they got back, just like they’d left it.

Steve did his chores and errands, and then went back to sitting on the couch. He stared blankly at the tv and then scrolled through his phone again.

Bucky had sent him a few pictures throughout the day. He looked like he was having a great time. Steve was happy for him.

He slept on the couch that night, with the volume on the tv turned all the way up. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he just couldn’t stand how quiet and empty the house seemed.

 

He didn’t have work on Wednesday. It was terrible.

He considered calling Clint or Natasha to ask them to come hang out, but he figured that might sound too needy and pathetic. Both of them had jobs and lives and better things to do than come hang out with him.

Steve spent most of the day out of the house. He got groceries, he went to the bank, he spent way too much time in Starbucks. He went jogging twice, and drove to the dog park to let Sergeant run for a while.

All of these typical daily activities just seemed so…empty without Bucky. Grocery shopping was excruciatingly boring without Bucky repeatedly trying to sneak expensive junk food into the shopping cart. Starbucks was uneventful without Bucky making him try some random drink. Even the dog park was kind of sad without Bucky frantically chasing Sergeant around.

Everything was just... empty.

Bucky called that night. Steve was sitting on the couch watching tv, Sergeant sprawled out on his lap.

Steve answered his phone immediately, his face breaking into a smile at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“Steve!” Bucky said enthusiastically.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. “How’s it going?”

“You didn’t reply to any of my texts,” Bucky said. There was noise in the background, and the sound of people laughing. It sounded like Bucky was at a party.

“They were pictures,” Steve said. “Was I supposed to reply?”

“Yes!” Bucky said indignantly. “I only got that one that you sent of Sergeant!”

“There’s not much here to take pictures of,” Steve said. “Anyway, how’s the conference?”

“It’s great,” Bucky enthused. “Well, no, it’s pretty boring, but there’s lots of free food and the hotel is fucking amazing.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah! We’ve been out every night, the bars here are so much better than at home. And yes, before you ask, I’m getting enough sleep, and no, I’m not drinking.”

Steve laughed. “I wasn’t going to say that!”

“You definitely were. Anyway, I gotta go, but send me some more pictures of Sergeant, okay!”

“Okay,” Steve said. He could feel his heart starting to sink already. “Bye, Buck. Love you.”

“Bye!” Bucky said cheerfully, and then the call ended.

Steve slumped back down onto the couch and listened to how fucking quiet his house was.

 

Thursday was the worst day so far. He woke up to his empty bed in his empty bedroom. He ate breakfast in his silent kitchen and then sat in his silent living room and stared out the window.

It was stupid. It was absolutely ridiculous, the way he was acting. He was twenty-two years old, for fuck’s sake. He could make it a few days on his own.

It just… it was too familiar. This was what the house had been like when his mother had died. Even when she was sick, her presence had just filled up the old house. When they’d taken her body away and Steve was left with just the quiet, it had felt like this. It was just him, standing in this quiet house on the edge of the ocean. Sometimes he felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist at all, when there was no one down on the beach and he couldn’t see anything alive for miles around.

Sergeant was asleep on his bed in the corner of the living room. Steve debated waking him up, just to have someone else in the house, but he figured that would be kind of mean.

He tried to paint for a while, but he just couldn’t.

Steve went out onto his back deck, sitting down with his legs dangling over the edge. A storm was brewing out over the ocean, and the waves were starting to grow more wild.

A breeze brushed over his skin and ruffled his hair, but he barely felt it. It didn’t seem real. It was too quiet, it was just too quiet.

It was a chillier day, and there was no one down on the beach in this weather. Steve’s only neighbours were gone for a few weeks, and their house was dark and empty.

It felt like he was the last person alive on earth, sitting on the deck like this. It wasn’t a good feeling.

Steve’s eyes drifted to the cliff on the other side of the beach. He could walk down there and just step off it, really. He’d disappear into the ocean, and with the currents the way they were, who knows where he’d end up. Hell, except for Bucky, would anyone even notice he was missing? The neighbours would probably only notice when the house started to fall apart without him there to take care of it. His employers would get annoyed when he didn’t show up, but it wasn’t like his job was that important. They’d probably call twice and then give up on him. He didn’t have any friends, really, other than Natasha and Clint, but they were only friends with him because of Bucky. His grandmother didn’t recognize him most of the time, and his aunt and cousins only called when they needed something from him. If Bucky didn’t exist, it would probably takes ages for someone to notice –

Steve blinked, slightly shocked at the turn his thoughts had taken. He scrambled up off the deck and went back inside.

Bucky would be home tomorrow. Everything would be fine.

 

Friday morning was somehow even worse. He went to work on only a few restless hours of sleep, and spent the day trying to stay awake. Sergeant was antsy and impatient by the time he got home, barking and whining until Steve gave in and took him for a walk.

The house was still and silent when they got back. Steve took Sergeant’s leash off and let him run into the house, closing the door behind him.

It was just so _quiet._

Steve was suddenly struck with a weird urge to start crying. He never cried. It wasn’t out of some desire to be tough or anything like that, it just… didn’t seem to happen. Well, until today.

Steve slumped down on the couch, staring out the window again. Something nudged his knee, and he looked down to see Sergeant sitting next to him. Sergeant rested his head on Steve’s knee, looking at him calmly.

“I’m sorry I told Bucky that I didn’t want a dog,” Steve told him. “I didn’t mean you.”

Sergeant huffed quietly.

“I’m glad Bucky brought you home,” Steve said. “I know you like him better than me, but I’m still glad.”

Sergeant hopped up on the couch and curled up next to Steve. Steve rested his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. He was fine, it was fine.

His phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket.

“Hey,” Steve said. It sounded normal. He was kind of proud.

“Hey!” Bucky said cheerfully. “Okay, so, there’s a bunch of other events here this weekend, so all of us were thinking of maybe staying until Sunday night or Monday morning. The hotel is already paid for, so we might as well!”

“Oh,” Steve said. It sounded weird and flat, even to him.

Bucky paused.

“You okay?” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Steve said. It wasn’t convincing.

The sound in the background of the call died away, like Bucky had walked into a different room.

“Steve? What’s going on?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing,” Steve said. His throat felt thick. “Have fun on the weekend, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Steve, come on,” Bucky said. He sounded worried. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Steve tried to reply, but tears were starting to run down his face and he had to grit his teeth.

“I’ll come home tonight,” Bucky decided. “I’ll just catch the train, the last-minute tickets will be cheap – “

“No!” Steve protested. “Stay, have fun with your friends – “

“I don’t want to,” Bucky said stubbornly. “You’re upset about something, I’m going to come home – “

Steve hung up. He didn’t want to, but his shoulders were starting to shake and he couldn’t catch his breath and he was really starting to cry now.

Time passed. It got dark around him, but he didn’t care enough to get up and turn on the lights. He stayed slumped on the couch, grief and loneliness and pain suddenly swamping him. Sergeant stayed curled against him, a steadying warmth in the darkness of the house.

 

A key turned in the lock, sooner than he would have expected. Sergeant’s head perked up at the noise, but he didn’t move from where he was pressed against Steve’s side.

“Steve?” Bucky called. Steve wanted to respond, but he was pretty sure that he’d start crying again if he did so.

Steve heard Bucky drop his bag at the front door. Kicking his shoes off, Bucky wandered into the living room.

Steve stared resolutely at the floor. He knew his face was probably blotchy and swollen and disgusting.

“Steve?” Bucky said uncertainly. He sat down on the coffee table in front of Steve, trying to catch Steve’s eye. He reached out, but Steve flinched away from his hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Steve said roughly. He rubbed at his eyes angrily. “Nothing happened. You didn’t have to come home.”

“’Course I did.”

Steve shook his head, tears starting to prick at his eyes again. “You were having fun.”

Bucky was staring at him. “So? You’re more important to me than some dumb conference.”

Steve covered his face with his hands again.

“Talk to me,” Bucky said desperately. “Just tell me what happened, at least.”

“Nothing _happened,”_ Steve said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Really. It was… it was just so quiet. That’s all.”

“I shouldn’t have gone,” Bucky muttered.

“No!” Steve protested, finally looking up. “You shouldn’t… you should be able to do whatever you want, Buck. You shouldn’t have to plan everything around me – “

“I don’t! And what I _want_ is for you to be okay.”

Steve thought about arguing that he _was_ fine, but that particular argument was pretty redundant at this point.

“What if you weren’t here?” he asked instead.

“Uh,” Bucky said slowly. “What do you mean?”

“If you weren’t here,” Steve repeated. He sat back, letting his hands fall away from his face. He stared out the window again. “If you weren’t with me.”

“Well, I’d probably still be at the conference,” Bucky said, in a weak attempt at humour.

Steve didn’t look at him. “I was… I mean, if you weren’t around, I could just… walk off that cliff. Just disappear, and no one would notice.”

“What?” Bucky said. He sounded horrified.

“I mean, I’m not _going_ to,” Steve said. He propped his head on his hands again, still staring out the window. “But apart from you, no one would notice me being gone.”

“Of course they would!”

Steve shook his head lethargically. “I don’t have what you have, Buck. I don’t have anyone to fall back on.”

“Steve…” Bucky said slowly.

“You have your family,” Steve continued. “They’ll always take you in, you know that. Hell, you don’t even live there and they still have a bed there for you.”

“Well, yeah, but – “

“And all your friends at work, too,” Steve mused. “You could definitely crash with them if you had to.”

“Steve – “

“And Clint, and Natasha,” Steve said. He stared out at the ocean. “Your friends from university. So many people.”

“I – “

“I fell down the stairs once,” Steve said. “Like a week after my mom died. It was stupid, I was just trying to carry laundry down the stairs and I tripped and fell.”

He finally turned to look at Bucky. Bucky was frowning, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“I mean, I was fine,” Steve continued. “Sprained my wrist and got a few bruises, but it wasn’t that bad. But I almost landed on my head. I could have broken my neck. I was lying there, at the bottom of the stairs, and I was just thinking about how if I _had_ broken my neck, no one would have known. I’d have lain there until I died.”

“That’s not true.”

Steve shrugged listlessly. “Yeah, it was. That was before I met you, Buck.”

“Clint would have noticed,” Bucky tried. “I’m sure he would have been worried if he called and you didn’t pick up.”

Steve shook his head. “He was on that cruise with Natasha. I didn’t hear from him for like a month and a half.”

“Your aunt…”

“You know she only calls me when she needs money,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky sighed.

“But, anyway, I was sitting on the deck, while you were gone,” Steve continued. “And I was looking at the cliff, and I was just thinking about how I could jump off it now and no one would care.”

“I would care,” Bucky said sharply. “Why would you even _say_ that?”

“Apart from you,” Steve said hastily. He buried his face in his hands again. “I’m not… I’m not trying to make it sound like you don’t care about me, Buck, really, I just… there’s no one besides you, really.”

“Steve…” Bucky said. Steve felt his hand close around one of Steve’s wrists, gently tugging one of Steve’s hands away from his face. “Come on, look at me.”

Steve looked up, his eyes stinging from trying to hold back more tears.

Bucky looked upset. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

Steve pulled his hand away and rubbed his eyes. “No, it’s fine, Buck, really, I’m fine. It’s just, this week… I dunno, it was just too quiet – “

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted. “You shouldn’t… this is really worrying me.”

Steve gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to start crying in front of Bucky. He wasn’t.

He curled in on himself and covered his face again.

“It’s fine,” he tried to say again, but his voice broke on ‘fine’.

Bucky climbed onto the couch next to him, putting his arms around Steve’s shoulders.

He started crying again, burying his face against Bucky’s collarbone. Bucky kept his arms tight around Steve’s shoulders, his breathing steady.

Steve lost track of time, after a while. He wore himself out after a while, but Bucky didn’t let him go. Steve eventually just fell asleep, his muscles finally relaxing for what felt like the first time in days.

 

He woke up the next morning stiff and uncomfortable. He was curled on the couch next to Bucky, lying nearly on top of him. Bucky still had his arms wrapped tightly around Steve’s chest, but he too was sound asleep.

Steve carefully untangled himself from Bucky and stood up, stretching his sore muscles. He wandered over to the window and leaned against the sill, looking down over the water. There were already a few families down there, the parents sitting on the beach as the kids played eagerly in the waves.

He headed into the kitchen and started making breakfast. He already felt much better than he had the day before. Bucky’s presence just somehow filled up the house. Steve couldn’t see him or hear him from where he stood in the kitchen, but he knew it was there. Bucky would wake up when he smelled the pancakes cooking, and then they could sit on the deck and watch the waves and eat. It would be a nice morning.

Steve was fine.

Of course, he knew that there was no way that Bucky was going to let this go. But Steve had long since mastered the art of avoiding conversations that he didn’t want to have.

He’d be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> was that too ominous 
> 
> I am on tumblr[here](http://cameronwolfe.tumblr.com)!


End file.
